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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134221">Happily Ever After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/therapychicken/pseuds/therapychicken'>therapychicken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cinderella is the best Disney princess don't @ me, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, David Rose is a Good Person, David Rose needs a level up in self esteem, Getting Together, Halloween Costumes, I have no actual opinions on Daniel Craig as Bond, Insecurity, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Patrick Brewer is a Button, Princess David, RIP Sean Connery, and they all lived happily ever after</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/therapychicken/pseuds/therapychicken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>David has spent months creating the perfect Halloween costume for the Rose Video party- a copy of the Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella ballgown that makes him feel like a princess. He's excited but also a bit nervous because he's not sure what Patrick Brewer, Rose Video exec and new-friend-who-he's-maybe-in-love-with, will think of it. </p><p>Then, at the party, David soon discovers that there's a bit of a... misconception among the partygoers about his and Patrick's costumes. And their relationship status. </p><p>This is a disaster.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek Trick Or Treat</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happily Ever After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCTrickOrTreat">SCTrickOrTreat</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Patrick and David meet at a costume party where they show up in matching/couples costumes and everybody thinks they’re together but they’re not...yet.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David unhooked the garment bag from the passenger seat headrest of the Uber and heaved it out, doing his manful best not to trip on it and fall on his face. He slammed the door behind him with his foot and strode quickly toward the entrance of his building, where Mike-the-doorman was already holding the door open for him and calling him “sir” as he motioned for Jamie-the-concierge to call the elevator. David nodded and smiled at them, he hoped sufficiently politely, but he was focused much more on carefully holding the bag with two arms so that he wouldn’t wrinkle it before tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had spent </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too much time on this for it to possibly have something happen to it now. Too much money, too, which was something he suddenly had to think about now that his dad was making him put in some token efforts at Rose Video in exchange for his monthly infusions of it. But David was mostly thinking of those hours he’d spent at the design table alongside the Broadway costume designer he’d hired, the hours he’d stood in front of the mirror as he was measured, being stuck with pins during alterations… to come back with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After gingerly placing the bag over one arm so that he could unlock his door, he made his way to his closet and, once inside, carefully hung the garment bag in the place of honor designated for it. He contemplated it with satisfaction and was mulling over whether to open it, admire it in all its glory, when his phone buzzed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few months ago, David would have ignored his phone- it would have been Alexis needing something completely insane, or one of his user friends trying to wrangle an invitation somewhere, or one of his parents trying (each one in their own way) to guilt trip him. Everyone wanted something, was the thing, and this was supposed to be his time, goddamnit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But recently he’d started getting texts from someone who didn’t seem to want anything from him, even though David desperately wished he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, in fact, it was Patrick who had texted him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t wait to see that mystery costume of yours! :). </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yes, that was an emoticon. A full and expressive keyboard of emojis came with Patrick’s perfectly serviceable, relatively recent iPhone, and Patrick still used emoticons. It was infuriating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David smirked at his screen and texted back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>You pick yours up from Party City yet? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The text came back so quickly that David’s phone screen was still open and his phone didn’t even have time to buzz. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ha, that fancy? Think the thrift store. Pretty sure I shook the last of the roaches out, but I know I can rely on you to save me from any that might crawl out of my pockets at the party. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>David recoiled- he’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>snarking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about the Party City thing, but it was becoming kind of concerning that Patrick didn’t seem to exactly be joking himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know that if you have even the slightest hint of thrift store odor on you, let alone roaches, I will not be allowing you anywhere near me or my impeccable costume and you will just have to look on and drool. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The second the text was sent, David’s heart dropped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You will just have to look on and drool</span>
  </em>
  <span>- far too forward. David wasn’t even sure that Patrick was gay, let alone interested in him as anything but a work associate and friend. And coffee buddy, and fellow shit talker, and attempted skincare coach (though Patrick was a tough customer). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he spiraled, his phone buzzed and David jumped as though electrocuted. He looked down. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, I guess I will. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well well well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow David managed to repeat the whole garment bag transportation process once again the next morning, bringing the costume safely to work without too much of a hitch (the bag had gotten caught in the door as David was shutting it when he arrived, and David had stewed nervously over it as he walked to his office only to note in dizzy relief that nothing inside seemed to have been damaged). At eleven, right on schedule, there was the same tidy rapping on his door that David had come to wait for every day, and sure enough, when David swiveled around, it was Patrick, holding two steaming cups, one in each hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Patrick said, smiling, “that garment bag certainly looks impressive.” He sat down in the chair on the other side of David’s desk, depositing the coffee cups in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David smirked. “Well, if that looks impressive, just you wait til you see me in what’s inside,” he said teasingly, before he realized quite what he was doing. And shit. He just could not keep his mouth shut, could he. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up, nervous, to see Patrick still smiling, maybe a bit pink tinged. “I’m sure I’ll be completely blown away, David,” he said, and if David wasn’t imagining it maybe there was a bit of a tremor in his voice as he said it? Probably wishful thinking. “I can’t say the same about my costume- I doubt I’ll make nearly as much of an impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well in something from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrift store-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now this was familiar territory- ragging on Patrick’s frankly ghastly sartorial habits was a great distraction from his initial thought that there was no way that Patrick wouldn’t make an impression on him, even if he was dressed in a raggedy hobo coat, or worse, a denim jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick laughed. “I’ll have you know, I got it professionally dry cleaned, so there will be no bugs crawling out of my pockets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what you told me yesterday…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s true. Certified insect free. So no excuse not to get close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this David had to let out half a gasp, because- it wasn’t just the fact that Patrick had said something that sounded kind of flirty- he did that sometimes and David tended to cast it to the side because he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was that Patrick seemed to be looking him in the eye as he said it, looking right at David, face a faint dusky pink, as though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>David realizing he was saying something flirty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to David that maybe Patrick </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>his thrift store costume to make an impression. On him, specifically. A shiver went down David’s spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds, Patrick shook his head and said, “okay, so I have the folder of quarterly projections that your dad wanted me to walk you through,” and David realized that he’d just been staring, completely silent, and the moment had passed completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The work day officially ended at 5:30, but at 4 David was locking the door of his office and putting down the blinds. He’d brought in a mirror with an attached lighting rig a few days earlier, as well as a go bag with his hair care, skin care, and makeup. He had a lot of work to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After putting a slight wave in his hair and topping it with a sparkling comb, and after putting on some subtle but glittery makeup (he wanted glamorous without going full drag queen), he took a deep breath and zipped open the garment bag. The white silk glistened just as much as it had the day before as he’d tried it on; the skirts flowed like water and the sleeves puffed like clouds in a clear blue sky. After waxing poetic for a few more minutes as he removed the day’s clothes, David took another breath and unzipped the dress, removing it from the hanger and letting it slide smoothly over his head.  He zipped it shut and stood in front of the mirror and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had always been a part of David that had wanted to feel like a princess, at least for a little while, ever since he was a kid and would raptly watch his mother as she got dressed up in her most ostentatious finery for premieres and parties. She would give him a little twirl as she prepared to leave and have him get the bottom of her zippers, and he’d promised himself that one day, when he was a grownup, he would feel beautiful like that every day, not just for parties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David could, honestly, say that he was pretty happy with how that particular promise had turned out. Whatever other disasters he was dealing with- people using him for his money, dumping him over text or in a helicopter, asking him to get them out of Indonesian prison (that one was mostly Alexis)- he always managed to make himself feel beautiful with the right clothes and hair and skin care. But a recent trip to see Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella on Broadway, and seeing Cinderella dancing in an elaborate white sparkling ball gown, had made David think that maybe Halloween could be a good opportunity to feel a more princessy kind of beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to admit that, even after all these months of working on the design, the sewing, and the fitting, he was a bit nervous, because soon after he’d commissioned the costume a wrench came into the works- a seemingly bland but actually secretly gorgeous Rose Video junior finance executive named Patrick who had been sent to educate David in the ways of his father’s business but had instead been teaching him that maybe there really were good people in this world. And when it had just seemed like Patrick was a straight guy in boring straight guy clothes, it hadn’t mattered that David was planning to come to the party in a literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>princess dress and glitter makeup.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But recently it had felt like maybe Patrick wasn’t so straight, and was maybe interested in David in a way that David didn’t want to think about too hard in case he was reading things wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if he was reading things right, but seeing David in the gown scared Patrick off? What if it was too much? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David looked in the mirror, but he didn’t see someone who was too much. He saw a princess, he saw someone who felt beautiful every day. Who, evidence suggested, Patrick maybe thought looked beautiful every day as well. Maybe today wouldn’t be any different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David twirled in front of the mirror. His skirts swirled up around him and he felt perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At 6, David could hear people start to chatter in the halls, making their way down to the main conference room. He could hear the click-clacking of heels among the footsteps and felt a flash of relief that his costume didn’t require them- he’d suffer a lot for beauty but he basically always regretted it when it meant wearing heels. David had instead chosen a pair of nearly translucent white loafers that he think did the job very well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, he opened the door of his office and joined the people heading downstairs. A few of them- David didn’t recognize any of them, but then again who besides Patrick did David ever recognize around here- gave him long looks; generally those looks were disbelieving, but one guy, dressed as a lumberjack, gave him an appreciative once over and a flirtatious wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. That was something to start off with, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered the conference room with his heart in his throat, which was insane. This had to be one of the most inane, insignificant events he’d ever attended. His fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents </span>
  </em>
  <span>were here, after all, and who cared what they thought about him. Surely he couldn’t feel more nervous here than he had walking into the Met Gala in a black and white striped old timey men’s one piece bathing suit. That had been a mistake of epic proportions and he’d shrugged it off completely (though admittedly he’d been high, </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>high). A Rose Video Halloween party of the kind he’d spent the last ten years purposefully avoiding should have been less than nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And indeed, when he saw his parents (dressed up as Louis the Whateverth and Marie Antoinette, with his mother’s wig somehow managing to give the rest of hers a run for their money) nothing changed in the way he was feeling; he gave them a terse wave and walked quickly away in the other direction (or as quickly as he could go without tripping on his petticoats). He saw Alexis in the far corner with her boyfriend, Ted, where they were dressed as hippies and apparently meant to be holding up “Free Love” signs; they’d abandoned the signs against the wall to frantically make out, which David had to admit </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> tracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scanned the crowd, a nauseous feeling in his chest, telling himself that he was just seeing who he’d be dealing with tonight while also noting frustratedly that Patrick had never actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>him what the thrift store costume was, to look out for it. He could be wearing a full body panda suit and David wouldn’t know it was him. (Then again, if Patrick </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>wearing a full body panda suit, maybe David was better off leaving him well enough alone.) But no, the only vaguely friendly face he could see was Stevie, the building receptionist and David’s occasional pot buddy, dressed as a mobster in a pinstriped suit and porkpie hat. He was about to head through the crowd toward her (she was helpfully also right near the bar) when he heard someone approaching him from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David!” The high-pitched, syrupy tones made it clear as he spun around that the person addressing him wasn’t Patrick but rather Jocelyn, the overly enthusiastic HR director, who was dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. “I love your costume- it’s so poofy! I would have thought that if you were doing a couple’s costume you guys would both have come together rather than separately, but you do you. Did you model this off Princess Diana’s dress? Because I still play Candle in the Wind every year on the anniversary of her death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m- I’m not doing a couple’s costume,” David sputtered, partly because he was just genuinely thrown by the implication and partly because he did NOT want to enter a discussion about Princess Di, blessed be her memory, with Jocelyn of all people. “Why do you think I’m in a couple’s costume? And with whom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jocelyn cocked her head confusedly at David. “Well, you’re the bride, right? Like Princess Diana, with the poofy sleeves and the long skirt with the train, though I have to say it was a sensible choice not to go that route, you’d end up with everyone stepping on it. And Patrick, I assumed, is the groom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David froze. Patrick?! “Well, I don’t even know what Patrick’s costume is- you’re saying he’s here? And he’s wearing, what, a suit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, a tux, and I have to say it looks sharp on him. I guess it makes sense if you’re not in a couple’s costume, I’d have assumed that he should be dressed more in a prince’s uniform with all the sashes and the shiny medals, like Prince Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the last time- I’m not Princess Di, I’m not even a bride, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking Cinderella</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and until ten seconds ago I had no idea that Patrick was at this party, let alone in a tux. Why would you think we’re here together anyway?!” David’s voice went high-pitched by the end of this, piercing over the too-loud strains of the Monster Mash coming from the speakers, but Jocelyn just looked at him indulgently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we all know how you boys feel about each other,” she said knowingly, and David was about to sputter “who knows? And what do they know? And are you saying that Patrick actually like-likes me, like in a middle school way?” when his mouth froze half-open as he saw the man of the hour himself coming up next to Jocelyn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was indeed wearing a tux, and for something that Patrick had sworn yesterday had come from a thrift store it looked remarkably sleek on him- and well-tailored, highlighting how fit and well-built Patrick really was- something that David </span>
  <em>
    <span>occasionally </span>
  </em>
  <span>forgot when he was too distracted by how sassy and sweet Patrick could be, but usually occupied at least a small portion of David’s mind. He was wearing a crisp white shirt under the jacket and a bow tie that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his sparkling eyes were fixed directly on David, and he was smiling that special smile that he seemed to always have around David, and for a moment David completely and unreservedly believed everything that Jocelyn had just said about their feelings for each other. Then he quashed it because what right did he have to feel sure of something like that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you all the way across the room as I was coming in, and- wow, David.” Patrick seemed to be turning pink, but that could just be the weird party lighting, but then again now he was looking David up and down, almost like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>marveling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which was almost too much for David to take. “You look absolutely stunning, oh my god. No wonder you wanted this to be a surprise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David could feel himself blushing. “Thanks,” he near-whispered. “Yeah, it was a lot of work. You look quite dashing yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick was definitely blushing now, and looked about to say something when Jocelyn interrupted perkily, “Patrick, you look so handsome in your tux! You can understand why I completely thought the two of you were here together. I mean, look at David, doesn’t he look like he’s dressed as a bride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick stared at Jocelyn for a second, nonplussed, before looking back at David. “Um, no. I mean, wouldn’t he be wearing a veil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” David hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick furrowed his barely-extant eyebrows. “But wait,” he said slowly, “if we’re here together, and you’d be dressed as a bride then I’d be-” His eyebrows shot up and he flushed crimson. “No, no, I’m James Bond! I mean, I guess I can see where you’re getting that from, maybe, but l, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be Sean Connery as Bond- </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘shaken, not shtirred,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jocelyn looked disappointed; David felt like Patrick was protesting kind of hard, but not nearly as hard as David had earlier so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He evaluated the still=flushed Patrick in his costume, maybe letting his eyes wander up and down the tailored silhouette a few more times than was necessary. “Hm,” he said, “I would have had you pegged as more of a Daniel Craig.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s formerly nervous smile solidified and broadened. “...You know, I’ll take it,” he responded, looking David right in the eyes until David nearly shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always liked Daniel Craig,” David mused out loud, very deliberately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s tone was downright dangerous, and David’s spine was tingling, and things seemed to be very very promising, when-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, will you look at that, fellas, you’re under the mistletoe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David jumped in alarm, looking around wildly, as he saw Roland, head of building maintenance, dressed in a Scarecrow costume with his arm looped around Jocelyn’s shoulders, leering at the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shi-” he darted his eyes at the ceiling, only to a) see nothing and b) remember a key fact about what month it was. Fuuuuck. “Okay, Roland, it’s Halloween.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Made you look!” Roland cackled. “Then again, I figured you two lovebirds would be dying for an excuse to smooch, eh, Joce?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since Roland’s entrance, David dared a glance at Patrick; his head was in his hands. Clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>was embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Completely and utterly done with all of this, David said in rapidly escalating tones, “for the last time, Patrick and I are not dating, we are not wearing couple’s costumes, I am dressed as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cinderella</span>
  </em>
  <span> aka the best Disney </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rodgers and Hammerstein princess, Patrick is dressed as a not-my-favorite-but-still-very-dashing iteration of James Bond, and I need everyone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking we are dressed like the top of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>wedding cake, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A too-still silence greeted the end of David’s diatribe, and he turned away from a still-smirking Roland to see that everyone in a ten-foot radius had turned to look at them. Shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to hear that, David,” said Ray, a voluble sales exec on David’s floor who he nearly always had the misfortune to bump into while walking to the bathroom. “I had already entered the two of you in the couple’s costume contest, but now you’ll have to be disqualified on a technicality. Shame- the prize is a spa getaway for two, though if you two are indeed not in a relationship then perhaps that would have been awkward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it would,” David said through gritted teeth. He refused to look at Patrick. As he scanned his eyes over the crowd, his eyes met Stevie’s from across the room- he tried to telegraph </span>
  <em>
    <span>SOS, I AM DYING</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his eyes toward her, to be met with a very exaggerated shoulder shrug from her end. Not much help, but then again Stevie never helped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooooh, David, what’s this here?” came Alexis’s voice from behind Jocelyn, which was of course exactly what the situation needed; a curious Ted was following her into the fray. “Are you and Patrick little wedding cake munchkins? The aesthetic doesn't quite fit with your wedding scrapbook, and also I have to say that’s a little bit on the nose considering-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Alexis,” David said quietly and, he thought, with a tinge of warning, but Alexis ignored him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hope you aren’t all clingy or needy like you used to be- I mean, dressed up like a bride so early on, you’re bound to seem desperate- though I guess if he’s the groom then he’s into it?-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Patrick and I are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>together,” he spat. “We are not. We are not dressed in a couple’s costume, I am not being </span>
  <em>
    <span>clingy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I am being perfectly fine and normal and chill about this, except we’re not even together so it doesn’t matter, and I don’t appreciate that people are making such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mockery </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the whole idea of it, that we could be- you know what, as though it’s so funny, as though-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden there was a lump at his throat, choking him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As though it's so laughable that someone like him would go for someone like me, would be happy with someone like me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what he didn’t say, because it felt too true. He knew that the two of them had chemistry, he was basically 99.9% sure that Patrick thought he was hot, but he wasn't just hot, he was a hot mess, and Patrick was the most efficient and self-sufficient person David had ever met and no way would Patrick be into all of David’s ridiculousness. Under all the flirting, that was the eternal truth he'd always lived with; he'd never be good enough for a truly good person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David guessed that his face changed because so did Alexis’s in response. “David,” she said, almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>tenderly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which was a strange enough look for Alexis that David stared at her in response. “David, we’re not mocking it, we’re not mocking you. People are saying it because they think it’s true, because we can see your connection and we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I know you don’t think that you’re good enough or that you deserve happiness, or whatever, but you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you deserve better than Patrick, he looks like a thumb,” came the sardonic voice of Ronnie, head of operations management, from somewhere behind David.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ronnie, though that’s not quite what I was getting at!” Alexis called back over the crowd. “My point is that- you deserve good things, David, even if you don’t think you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” came a voice from slightly behind David, and David’s heart nearly stopped because this had turned so far into a sibling spat-turned-unexpected-cheerleading sesh that David had kind of forgotten who was standing there for the whole of it, listening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>the whole thing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Patrick said slowly, his face flushed, staring from David to Alexis and back again. “Wait. David, you don’t think you <em>deserve happiness</em>, you don't think you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>good enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>? For what, being with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cringing, David put his head in his hands, wishing he were anywhere but there. “It’s not important, just ignore it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David could suddenly feel Patrick’s skin on his skin; his heart pounded as he felt Patrick take his hands off his face and suddenly he could see Patrick terrifyingly close, looking him in the eye, almost desperately. “It’s important to me! It’s the most important thing- you’re so- you're- oh, fuck it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all of a sudden Patrick was pulling David’s hands closer and clasping them tightly in his own and they were kissing, in front of all these people, and David’s world was upside down and inside out. His brain was spinning, his ears were buzzing, there were stars exploding behind his closed eyes. Suddenly they weren’t holding hands anymore and instead Patrick’s hands were running over the back of his gown. David’s free hands, in turn, went over Patrick’s tuxedo jacket, and he could feel the James Bond shoulder holster lying over Patrick’s very well-built back, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke apart, suddenly, and if David was grinning like an idiot (as was likely) then at least he could see that Patrick was too, and the rest of the room was- they were fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>applauding</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is what they were doing, and David wanted to lash out at Roland and Jocelyn’s smug faces, if nothing else, but he was too happy, just too happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick grabbed back on to his hand and gave it a tug as he whispered, “let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David nodded, dizzily, and as he and Patrick walked, hand in hand (!) out of the room, a back part of his brain was registering the people around him. Twyla, the cafeteria lady with whom David had a very close working relationship (and who made a killer mac and cheese), was grinning and sending thumbs up from across the room; Stevie was still at the bar and raised a glass of red wine in a toast. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents </span>
  </em>
  <span>were smiling at him- his actual parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This had been a weird day. The best day possible, but definitely weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David and Patrick had found a nice comfortable couch in one of the employee rec rooms; Patrick’s shoes were cast on the floor (so they wouldn’t wreck David’s dress) and his tux jacket and holster were laid over the couch arm (so that David could have full room to grope) and they were making out like it had just been invented. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David could genuinely not remember ever feeling happier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Patrick said, pulling himself away from David just far enough that their mouths weren’t touching anymore, which made David itch to close the gap, “I’m starting to wish I had dressed up as a prince after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” David shot back dryly, unsure whether the ineffable lightness inside him was actually bright enough to be seen by passing spaceships or it just felt that way. “Why so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you know,” Patrick answered, grinning, and David couldn’t take it, he kissed Patrick again. As Patrick broke them apart yet again, he said, “I want to be your Prince Charming, David.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David laughed helplessly, his head banging against the wall behind him as he tipped it back. Patrick was running his fingers along the lines of David’s face, as though committing them to memory. It was the best feeling David had experienced in a while, except the kissing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, eyebrows raised, Patrick wiped his mouth against the back of his hand. He smiled when he saw the pink smear that was left there. “I’d thought that when I came out as gay, I wouldn’t have to deal with getting lipstick all over my face from making out,” he muttered with a snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Patrick was okay with it, but David hadn’t even thought about it until just this second and suddenly he was nervous. “That’s not… a problem, right?” he said, trying to sound sexy but feeling like it may have come out a lot more like anxious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick stared at him, his mouth opened in shock. “Um, David, first of all you could be wearing a full face of clown makeup and I’d think you’re incredibly gorgeous-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even say that, one of my exes actually did paint my face like a clown and I can assure you I looked horrifying-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But also- also you look so beautiful right now, you don’t even- do you get how hot you are like this?” These words, and the naked want with which Patrick said them, deserved a kiss, and David couldn’t ever do anything but give Patrick all the good things he deserved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute or two later, they came up for air only for Patrick to say, teasingly, “you know what, so much for me being your Prince Charming- maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be my Bond girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David squawked indignantly. “Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you’d look so stunning…” Patrick said in a wheedling voice that made David feel like he was melting like chocolate in the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he said slowly, smirking, “now that you mention it I do have one or two pieces as part of my massive wardrobe that you constantly mock which would definitely fit a Bond girl aesthetic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could practically see Patrick’s pupils dilate as he said it, which was definitely gratifying, but suddenly he remembered </span>
  <em>
    <span>the thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he’d been pushing to the back of his mind in the exhilaration of this moment. That as much as he wanted all this, he wanted more also, and he had new evidence to suggest that maybe Patrick did too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing is,” David continued, his heart in his throat even though he was pretty sure he knew what was coming, “the thing is that it seems kind of forward, breaking out the lingerie before we’ve even been on a date.” He could see Patrick swallow as lingerie was mentioned, but then immediately after his eyes softened, widened, warmed immeasurably until David felt like he could sink into them. David took a deep breath before he asked, “Patrick, will you go on a date with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, until he said, “dammit, David, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>on a date,” and David just completely lost control of his smile. He could feel it unfurling across his face like a banner and he was too fucking happy to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then you’ll just have to ask me on the next one,” he responded, grinning, and as Patrick leaned forward eagerly to kiss him again David had never felt more beautiful. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just by the way, for anyone who thinks that the specific premise used is super far fetched, this is almost exactly what happened to me once at a costume party except that we didn’t get together at the end. So.</p><p>I hope you all enjoyed- please let me know what you think in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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